


Phantom

by seitsemannen



Category: GOT7
Genre: 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, Blindfolds, Bondage, Dom/sub, Edging, Explicit Consent, Kink Exploration, Light BDSM, M/M, Masks, Porn With Plot, Smut, Unrealistic acoustics, Unrealistic music lessons, the filthiest thing I've ever written, you'll never look at a violin bow the same again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 09:35:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17680955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seitsemannen/pseuds/seitsemannen
Summary: Music filled Jinyoung's dreams, music different from what he knew from the Opera. It was the music of the night, speaking of forbidden feelings and promising fulfillment unlike any other.Jinyoung found its call irresistible.





	Phantom

**Author's Note:**

> Over seven years of learning instruments and musical theory and this is what I use it for... And I never even learned the violin...
> 
> Don't try this at home. Also I don't have enough practical experience of what I wrote about, so if there are inconsistencies or mistakes, please educate me.
> 
> This is filthy and lovely, enjoy it to the fullest!

At first, Jinyoung heard music in his dreams, in melodies and songs so beautiful he woke up in tears, not knowing why. Like dreams, it seemed impossible for Jinyoung to remember the melodies of his sleep after he had woken, the tunes escaping him with the first of morning light. Or so Jinyoung thought, before one day Yugyeom asked him about a melody he was humming while they were cleaning their allotted corner in the crowded dressing rooms.

“What’s that song? I can’t remember hearing it before in any of the productions running here.”

Jinyoung paused, rag in his hand, and blinked at his younger friend. Yugyeom had grown to be his closest friend at the Opera, the both of them dancers and chorus singers for various productions, making barely more than their keep. Yugyeom was especially talented in dancing, and he could be kind and perceptive whenever he wasn’t trying to get on Jinyoung’s nerves, like he wasn’t now.

“Oh. I didn’t realize I was humming,” Jinyoung answered, taking a moment to think, to catch the edges of the melody that had been clear in his mind just moments before, when Yugyeom hadn’t yet broken his reverie by speaking.

“I’m not sure about the melody. I think it’s from a dream,” Jinyoung finally said, unable to recall more than a few notes and a feeling now to his disappointment.

Yugyeom didn’t press about it, because there was nothing to press about. The melodies kept growing inside of Jinyoung, a song that called to him in his dreams that only strengthened with each night that music filled his head, music unlike what he heard at the Opera. The music he heard in his dreams was still seeking its shape, raw and full of feeling, untamed. It filled Jinyoung with longing for something he didn’t understand and didn’t know how to search out.

There was a voice that accompanied the music, singing words of love, heartbreak, loneliness and longing, a voice that could be loud and commanding like thunder, or soft and delicate like silk. It was a voice Jinyoung didn’t know outside his dreams, because if it were the voice of someone at the Opera, he would recognize it.

Perhaps that was as well, because Jinyoung felt a pull to the voice he couldn’t explain. He wasn’t sure if it wasn’t just a figment of his dreams, but he felt the emotions the voice sang about vigorously nevertheless. The worst, or perhaps the best, were the nights it sang about temptation and desire, because Jinyoung would wake up wanting, hard as rock under the fabric of his nightshirt. Those nights he would be unable to find sleep again before he sought pleasure with his hand, muffling any sounds he would make with his other, careful not to wake the others sleeping in the same room. The edges of a seductive melody would play in his mind as he came, and yet it never was enough. The pleasure he gave himself left him empty even when he used oil to slick up fingers he pressed inside himself, seeking fulfillment only to come short, and end up having to wrap his hand around himself instead to find at least some release. The music awakened something in him he couldn’t satisfy himself.

Then one day, Jinyoung heard the music while he was wide awake.

It was already night, most of the others having gone to bed already, but Jinyoung was staying up late, revising the small part he had been given in the next production. It was but two lines, but they were lines he would sing alone instead of as part of the chorus, so Jinyoung was determined to get them right. He had slipped off into the tower, far away from where everyone else was sleeping, and was singing quietly along to the single sheet of paper he had been given for his part. It was only eight notes in the first line and five notes in the second, but Jinyoung was repeating them over and over again, so that he could be sure he could never mess them up.

Suddenly Jinyoung could hear it – a soft melody, coming from somewhere he couldn’t quite pinpoint as it seemed to echo from within the walls – and somehow Jinyoung could tell it was made with the brush of the same artist that had been coloring his dreams. Jinyoung leaned his head onto the cold stone wall next to him, trying to hear it better.

The single sheet of music abandoned, Jinyoung hummed along to the tunes he heard from the walls instead. It was tricky, for the creator was not repeating themselves, but rather giving birth to new melodies one after the other, that Jinyoung tried to accompany with his voice the best he could. He didn’t dare to raise his voice much, afraid of not hearing the faint music if he did, but he did his best to join the music. It was difficult, because it was completely different than what Jinyoung was used to; predetermined melodies that one was to never stray from, a beaten path that was to be followed and not questioned. Nevertheless, Jinyoung found that he was enjoying himself, finding exhilaration in music in a way he hadn’t before, despite having had made music and dance his career.

It was only when Jinyoung noticed his candle had almost gone out that he realized how late it had gotten, and that he had to get to bed to get any sleep at all, the mornings at the Opera always starting early. Jinyoung was reluctant to part from the music, but having no choice, he got up from his perch on the windowsill he had sat at for hours now and followed the winding stairs and corridors back to his bed, the music never leaving him on the way, although it grew fainter, almost inaudible.

As he laid down in his bed Jinyoung realized why he heard the music in his dreams – his bed was against the far wall, and lying down, he could hear its sound, only barely, but nevertheless.

After the first time, Jinyoung stayed up every night, sitting on the windowsill in the tower where he could hear the music best, joining his voice into it the best he could. And he got better at it, learning to match the chord instead of the note, discovering the boundaries of each mode and how much he could break out of it and still sound good. The music taught him in ways that the Opera’s music teachers had never, only focused on teaching them to read sheet music and how to stay in tune so they could do their parts correctly. These melodies taught Jinyoung to experiment, to listen and to find harmony and purpose, and it was amazing. Despite the fact that Jinyoung was getting regularly less sleep than he usually was, he was happier than he had been in a while, having discovered this joy in music.

Others noticed it too.

“You’re in a good mood,” Youngjae pointed out in a whisper as they waited to go through a scene for what felt like the hundred time. Youngjae was new here, but he had talent and he was favoured, so he had been given singing parts already, although he had been at the Opera but months. Some would envy him for it, but Jinyoung had been at the Opera his whole childhood to work to get as many parts as Youngjae got after a couple of months, and he didn’t mind. Youngjae had gotten lucky, and it was not his fault that Jinyoung hadn’t, that Jinyoung had had to work hard to get as far as he had.

Jinyoung angled himself slightly away from the director to flash Youngjae a quick smile. “I guess so.”

“Anything noteworthy happen?” Youngjae asked, eyes sparkling, clearly expecting something rumour worthy.

Jinyoung chuckled and shook his head. “Not like that. I’ve just… really  _ found _ music, you know?”

Youngjae opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, the director admonished them for their distraction, despite the fact that they were not in a scene, only in positions for it, waiting for the prima donna to come back from freshening up. The diva was always allowed whatever breaks she wanted while others had to wait, ready for her any moment. It was the way of the Opera, another one of those things they were not to question.

That night, instead of the first sounds of the organ that had started the creation of music every night up until now, there was a voice. And not just any voice – it was the voice from Jinyoung’s dreams, singing of the temptation of music and the warmth of the night.

Somehow, although he had already known that the music was not a figment of his imagination, Jinyoung had thought that the voice still might be, as he had never heard it while awake in that one extra hour he spent awake each night, singing and learning from the music. During these months Jinyoung had gotten bolder with his song and each night he wished he could stay longer, to envelop himself in the music and see where it would take him. But he had never heard that voice while awake before, and now that he did, it rendered Jinyoung unmoving and silent on his windowsill, completely enraptured by the song that called to him without saying the words.

It seemed to echo from somewhere close, but not from the hallway that led away from the spot Jinyoung had chosen for his nightly escapades. As he tried to pinpoint where the sound was coming from, Jinyoung noticed that the full-length mirror that was attached to the wall next to the window looked off, somehow. When Jinyoung got up from his seat to approach it, he noticed that the mirror wasn’t attached to the wall like he had always assumed. There was a doorway hidden behind it, closed every other time Jinyoung had been here, but cracked open now just the slightest bit to reveal the opening to a passageway Jinyoung had never known was there. When he wrapped his fingers around the cool, metal edge of the mirror, the door was easily pulled further open, and the song was louder on its other side, echoing from a dark, steep stairway leading down.

Despite being only in his nightshirt and only having a candle to light his way, Jinyoung didn’t hesitate to begin his way down the stairs, closing the mirror behind him. The music was beckoning to him, song accompanied by organ now, and Jinyoung couldn’t refuse its call.

Jinyoung lost all sense of time in the stairs. It felt like a dream, the music growing stronger around him as he descended, and it was only the matter of moments that he found himself joining it, announcing his presence with song. The artist didn’t falter in surprise or pause with the addition of another voice, only giving Jinyoung space in the music to fill with his own melodies, wordless but intricate.

It was dangerous, coming down here, that much was obvious. And yet the danger didn’t deter Jinyoung. Rather, it enticed him like a forbidden fruit he wanted to try, not knowing what the consequences would be, but accepting them nevertheless for just a taste of freedom.

After what seemed an endless amount of winding stairs, Jinyoung came into a room so large it was hardly a room, but more a cavern, an underground lake or a slow river filling it. Jinyoung couldn’t tell what type of body of water it was, as he couldn’t see where the sides of the space ended. What he could see, however, was that on the other side of the cavern there were two candelabras, framing a doorway. The music echoed in the cavern, an invitation now, or perhaps a plea, irresistible in any case. On this side of the water, there was a short pier with a small wooden boat tied to the end of it.

Jinyoung got in, picking up the oars, thankful for the first time in his life that the Opera laid them off for a month every summer and that Jinyoung had had to learn how to row to work the docks so as to not starve in the summer.

Jinyoung’s voice sounded different in the cavern, and it was more difficult to sing while rowing, but Jinyoung took his time to cross over just so he could study the echoes of his voice on the cold rock ceiling and walls of this space, much larger than the tower he sang in and different from the acoustics of the theater. However, he never let his boat stop, intent on getting to the other side and closer to the source of the music with each pull of the oars. There was no hesitation within him that Jinyoung could find. This was the music of he dreams and when it beckoned, he was to follow.

Reaching the other side, Jinyoung stopped only to tie the boat to the pier, blowing out his candle and leaving it in the boat before continuing on his way again. The stairs of stone went on, but this time, they were short and lined with candles, and Jinyoung could see more light at the end of them, the music everywhere now.

He finally stepped into the room where the music was coming from – a room lit by more candles than Jinyoung could count, with piles of sheet music layered on all surfaces – but his attention was drawn by the large theater organ on the other end of the room, an ink bottle with a quill balanced precariously on the edge of it, new melodies immortalized on paper as they were born. And sitting in front of the instrument, fingers dancing on its keys, there was a man, broad shouldered and noble in his stature. He wasn’t singing anymore, but even so, Jinyoung knew. This was the man of his dreams, the voice that made him cry and ache and  _ yearn  _ and for what, Jinyoung didn’t know. And now he was here to discover what it was that would give him the fulfillment the music promised, that Jinyoung had yet to find.

Jinyoung had stopped singing as well, choosing to instead just stand there, taking in the scene, bathing in the music the man played, combining the melodies they had been creating together as Jinyoung had been on his way here to give birth to a complete piece. It was wondrous, the way the tunes tied together, mixed and mingled into the final composition, sounding like they had been meant to be one from the start. It was perfection.

Finally, the piece arrived to its final chord. It lingered in the air before silence, the tension palpable now. The man knew Jinyoung was there. Jinyoung was waiting for him to turn and show himself, to give a face to the man that had come to Jinyoung in his dreams and made him want for something he had never had, not at least in the way the music was promising him.

“Who are you?” Jinyoung asked, when the last chord had tapered off and the man had yet to turn, yet to say anything.

“Does it matter?” The man answered, and for the first time Jinyoung heard his voice when he just spoke, a pleasant timber, low, but not that of a bass or even a baritone, but a tenor, like his singing voice. “You’ve come here without knowing it.”

“Still, I would like to know your name now that I am here,” Jinyoung countered, taking a step, then another closer. The distance between them was still that of several paces, and the music had stopped, but Jinyoung felt the pull regardless.

“You can call me Jaebum,” The man said, and then  _ finally, _ he turned in his seat. As he did, Jinyoung noticed to his disappointment that the upper half of the man’s face was covered with a white mask, leaving only his eyes, lips and the line of his jaw and cheek for Jinyoung to see.

“I’m Jinyoung,” Jinyoung reciprocated, although the man had not asked. Jinyoung could see a smile pull on the other’s lips, playful instead of sinister. Jinyoung thought that without the mask, the man might be quite handsome.

“Why have you come here, Jinyoung-ah?” The man asked, but the question seemed to amuse him, like a joke Jinyoung didn’t understand.

“I’ve come to learn,” Jinyoung answered truthfully.

“And what is it that you’d like to learn?” The man,  _ Jaebum, _ prompted,

“Music, song,” Jinyoung listed, hesitating for just a moment before continuing, “The things you sing about.”

“I sing about many things,” Jaebum answered. “To what are you referring to? Surely you don’t want to learn about heartbreak, or sorrow, or loneliness.”

Jinyoung let out a nervous chuckle. “Maybe not those. But you sing of other things, things that come before the sadness, or after the loneliness.” He didn’t elaborate, feeling bashful, perhaps, of what he was asking for after having only just met the man.

“You’re asking me to teach you about love,” Jaebum said, and it wasn’t a question, but a statement, although there was a tint of amazement to it. Jinyoung was glad for the bluntness, as that got them on the same page, and saved them time. 

The man hummed and nodded to himself, seemingly deciding on something. “Alright, I’ll teach you. But first, you’ll learn of music.”

The man stood up and gestured for Jinyoung to follow. The distance between them grew smaller as Jaebum led him out of the room through a lavish dining room, into a hallway. Jinyoung was but two steps behind the man as he opened a door to reveal a room furnished in dark reds and blacks, dominated by a large four-poster bed with curtains of velvet. A bedroom – and that thought made Jinyoung’s pulse speed up in anticipation.

Jaebum, however, didn’t seem to be in any hurry. Jinyoung paused by the entryway to the room, but instead of the man inviting Jinyoung to the bed and showing him the passions of the flesh Jinyoung had asked for him to, Jaebum walked over to a dresser to pull something out of a drawer.

"Close your eyes," Jaebum told him when he turned back to face Jinyoung, a mysterious smile playing on his thin lips even as most of what was visible of his face underneath the mask was hidden in shadow. "Music is an experience where your sense of sight can only hinder you - close your eyes and surrender, and it can make you feel, make you live as you've never lived before. Give yourself to me, and I will show you."

There was a strip of black silk in the man's hands he was offering towards Jinyoung, its purpose clear - if Jinyoung closed his eyes, the man would bind them, make sure that Jinyoung would keep his eyed closed. A thrill went through Jinyoung's spine at the thought, of giving himself to the mercy of this man and allow Jaebum to deprive him of his sight, and that thrill settled low in his stomach, the danger of this moment with this unfamiliar and yet familiar man. What was more, the man wasn't trying to overpower him. He was asking Jinyoung to give up control freely, offering to teach him of music, of himself, things Jinyoung had never known before, and Jinyoung knew not how to resist the temptation.

He closed his eyes.   
  
Jinyoung could hear the man step closer to him, and a moment later, silk was tied over his eyes, more a reminder to keep them closed than something that would truly render him unable to see anything should he open his eyes. The man didn’t even touch him to do it, not really, fastening the knot behind Jinyoung’s head before circling back to stand in front of him, breath gusting momentarily on Jinyoung’s face as the man checked his work.

“Thank you,” The man said, but Jinyoung wasn’t sure what precisely Jaebum was thanking him for. Coming here? Asking Jaebum to teach him? Agreeing to being blindfolded? Nevertheless, Jinyoung would do it again in a heartbeat.

“Would you prefer to sit?” The man asked. His voice really was pleasant, sweet like honey and warm like a blanket wrapped around the shoulders, but the question was not one Jinyoung had expected. He would have blinked in bewilderment if he still had his eyes open.

“Yes?” Jinyoung answered, uncertain of what was about to happen next. He was still expecting to be pushed down on the bed, but that part didn’t seem to be coming, although the next moment Jaebum’s hands were touching him, lightly guiding him from his shoulders to sit down on what Jinyoung knew to be the bed. Close, but not close enough.

Jaebum walked away from him again to pick up something Jinyoung recognized as a violin moments later when a couple of notes were played on it, each held for a moment as the instrument was tuned seemingly just by the ear, with seemed impossible.

“I will play for you and you’ll have to tell me what it is that the melody describes,” Jaebum said once he had finished tuning the instrument, playing a quick scale to make sure. “Understood?” He prompted, when Jinyoung didn’t immediately say anything.

“Yes.”

Jaebum played several tunes, beginning with feelings that were easy to recognize – sadness, happiness, anger. Then he delved into more complex emotions, demanding Jinyoung name them exactly – loneliness, playfulness and jealousy. He corrected Jinyoung if he guessed wrong, and guided him towards the answer, although Jinyoung was never far off. Finally came the ones Jinyoung wanted to hear, melodies of yearning, tenderness and desire. Deprived of his sight, Jinyoung’s other senses were heightened, and he was distinctly aware of other sensations – of how the sheets felt silky against his palms, the soft give of the bed beneath him, the smell of rich fabrics, ink and paper around him, every room seeming to be possessed by composing music. Jinyoung could also not ignore that he was sitting here dressed only in his shift, a nearly opaque piece of clothing not meant for venturing into mysterious dungeons on a whim like he had, but it was difficult for Jinyoung to feel truly self-conscious, when he couldn’t see anyway.

“Sing for me,” Jaebum said the next time he stopped.

“What would you like me to sing?” Jinyoung asked, although he thought he might know the answer.

“Just sing,” Jaebum answered, confirming Jinyoung’s suspicions. “Like you do every night, join into the song and add to it as you always do. Sing for me,” He prompted again, before beginning to play again. Jaebum was sure on the violin, never faltering, not a note out of place, everything fitting perfectly together. Jinyoung joined him hesitantly at first, but as the melodies intertwined, moods changing from tune to another, Jinyoung’s confidence grew. Every now and then Jaebum would stop and point something out about Jinyoung’s technique, guiding him to breathe from the bottom of his lungs and fixing his posture at one point, using the tip of his bow rather than his hands to poke and prod Jinyoung into the perfect posture. Jinyoung took instruction well, wanting to please this mysterious man, and preened under every praise Jaebum gave him.

When Jaebum hadn’t found anything to correct for a while, he joined his voice to the music, finding harmonies whenever the melodies Jinyoung was singing were predictable or repeated themselves, and adding layers when they weren’t, a duet forming as they alternated. It felt strange, but freeing, to sing like this – as loud as he liked, with music surrounding him as Jaebum walked the room, and the skill of the mysterious maestro supporting and assisting him in the creation of the new. Time was a concept forgotten while creating, Jinyoung noticed when Jaebum stopped and they fell into silence longer than they had had since the man had picked up the violin. He had no idea how long he had been here, but it could have been anything from just tens of minutes to hours.

Jaebum was the one to break the silence, not quite startling Jinyoung, but it was a near thing. “Thank you, my angel of music. You sing beautifully.”

“Angel of music?” Jinyoung asked, focusing on the name Jaebum had called him as he did not know how to respond to the praise.  _ You too, _ seemed all too insufficient.

“Singing sweet melodies from above, gifting my music with what it needs, so yes. An angel you are,” Jaebum explained, and Jinyoung did his best not to blush at the sincerity and fervor in the man’s voice. “You’ve been my muse, these past months, helping me finish many pieces by bringing in a fresh breath of air with your song.”

“You’ve been in my dreams for longer than that,” Jinyoung said without thinking.

“Oh?” The man asked, and Jinyoung could just  _ hear _ the smirk in his voice, even without seeing it. “Dreamt of me, have you?”

“I have,” Jinyoung admitted boldly, not letting the teasing tone of Jaebum’s voice deter him. He had come this far searching for the unknown yet familiar, for the brilliant mind that created the music that had made its way to Jinyoung’s dreams, to find the man behind the voice he had heard in his head for over a year. “Your music has filled my dreams for a long time.”

“Is that so,” Jaebum responded. Jinyoung could hear him walk closer now, coming to stand right in front of Jinyoung.

The tip of the violin’s bow came to Jinyoung’s chin, tilting it up just a little. Jinyoung’s breath hitched, suddenly hyper aware of his body again, responsive to Jaebum’s light, almost teasing guidance.

“Well then, angel, you’ve had your lesson in music and lesson in song. Do you still want that lesson of love you asked for?”

Jinyoung nodded without thinking, dislodging the bow so that it bounced back to tap lightly underneath his chin, and even just that small touch was already exhilarating. Jaebum tutted, tilting Jinyoung’s head back just a bit more.

“Use your words, angel. Do you want to continue giving yourself to me further? If at any point you want me to stop, you only need to ask.”

“Yes,” Jinyoung breathed. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t, unless you ask me to,” Jaebum reassured him. The bow disappeared from Jinyoung’s chin only to reappear at his base of his throat, this time the stick of the bow pressing lightly against his windpipe, but Jinyoung didn’t move.

“Lie down, or I will only press harder,” Jaebum warned him, and Jinyoung found he was excited by the prospect, the muscles of his arms tightening minutely as he braced himself better for what he hoped would follow.

“I understand,” Jinyoung answered, but didn’t move. Jaebum didn’t say anything, but Jinyoung would have probably liked to see his face, to know what sort of expression the man would make at this declaration. However, not seeing it had Jinyoung focusing on the senses he had left, the slowly increasing pressure against his throat and the sound of his own breathing, hitched now. Jinyoung found he enjoyed the heady feeling brought on by the slightest constriction of his breath, but he laid back after a while, not wanting to prolong this too much.

Jaebum, however, seemed to have other plans. “Move up the bed.”

Jinyoung complied, kicking off his slippers before shuffling on his elbows to move more towards the center of the bed, all his remaining senses honed on trying to figure out what was coming next. Jaebum stepped away from Jinyoung to walk about the room, setting the violin down, by the sound of it, and getting something else from his drawers.

“I would bind your hands, unless you ask me not to,” Jaebum informed him. A shiver went down Jinyoung’s spine at the idea, of being fully at the mercy of this man, unable to help himself. It settled low in Jinyoung’s stomach, and there was no doubt in his mind if he was amenable to the suggestion or not.

“Yes,” Jinyoung answered, although there had been no question, just to make sure the man would make good on his promise. Jaebum chuckled, the sound low and pleasant.

“I like how eager you are,” Jaebum’s voice betrayed a smile. “I’ll be good to you.”

Jaebum instructed him to stretch his arms to the sides. The man’s fingers were barely there on the bare skin of Jinyoung’s hands as he worked to bind him, one wrist at a time, and yet the light touch felt electric, simply because it was the first time they touched skin on skin. Unfortunately, Jaebum made quick work of it, and far too quickly each of Jinyoung’s wrists bound by what felt like rope, but softer, and Jinyoung guessed the other ends to be attached to a bedpost on each side. He tested this theory, moving his arms, and while the binds allowed for movement, it wasn’t much.

“These are to keep you focused on the sensations that I bring, and to allow for you to surrender to them,” Jaebum explained once he was done, walking around the bed again. “The sooner you do, the more you feel and the more pleasure I can bring you.”

Jinyoung took a shaky inhale. Jaebum’s words were promising many good things, and Jinyoung felt ready to learn what exactly they meant. But instead of the dip in the bed that would signify Jaebum’s weight joining Jinyoung on it, the next thing Jinyoung felt was the tip of the bow,  _ again, _ this time skirting over the material of his long night shirt, up from his calves to his hips and his chest, making Jinyoung shudder at the sensation.

“Well then, angel. Let’s begin,” Jaebum spoke, on the side of the bed now. The tip of the bow traveled all the way to where the nightshirt ended in laces at Jinyoung’s neck, before traveling down the arm closest to the other man.

“Like in music, in love honing your senses to it is crucial,” The touch came down to Jinyoung’s bare wrist, tapping lightly at the sensitive skin on its underside, just below the rope. “If you aren’t listening, aren’t  _ feeling, _ your sight will take you nowhere. You don’t need to see to love, so long as you listen. And if you don’t feel the love, if it’s just words, it’s not love at all. But there are many tones to love, and you must learn to recognize them by feel, by sound, to understand if and how you are loved.”

Jinyoung nodded blindly, but he was reminded with a firm tap on his wrist just a moment later that this was not what Jaebum wanted of him. “Words, angel.”

“I understand,” Jinyoung answered.

“I don’t think you do, not yet,” Jaebum countered. “But you’re hearing and you’re listening, which is the beginning.”

The touch of the bow disappeared from Jinyoung’s wrist only to reappear at his chest, exactly over a nipple that Jinyoung knew was perfectly visible through the translucent shift when it pressed against his skin like this. Jinyoung’s breathing stuttered, but he made no sound. The tip of the bow stayed perfectly still for a moment, rising and lowering with Jinyoung’s breath, but after two inhales, it started drawing a slow circle around the nub, movement flowing with Jinyoung’s unsteady breath. Jaebum was barely doing anything, and yet Jinyoung’s body was tingling under his ministrations. Jinyoung could feel his length begin to fill, something that would be betrayed by the smooth material of his nightshirt the moment it rose from between his legs to curve towards his stomach, which would not take long at this rate.

Just when Jinyoung got used to the circular motion the head of the bow stick was doing around his nipple, it stopped, the touch disappearing for a moment before it snapped down directly on the nub, making Jinyoung gasp and arch his upper body in surprise, pulling at the ropes that did not give. The slap had been only a firm tap, but with the arousing circles drawn just moments before, Jinyoung’s reaction to it was strong.

“That’s it,” Came Jaebum’s praise, sounding pleased. “You’ll find that pain and pleasure are surprisingly close to one another, when the line is treaded carefully. Do you want me to continue, angel?”

“Please,” Jinyoung whispered.

“Louder, angel, so I can hear your beautiful voice,” Jaebum prompted, although with how quiet the room was other than the sound of their breathing, Jinyoung knew the man had heard him perfectly well.

“Please,” Jinyoung repeated, his voice cracking in the middle of the word, hardly beautiful, but true.

“As you wish,” Jaebum answered, and walked over to the other side of the poster bed to repeat his ministrations on the other nub.

Despite knowing what was coming, Jinyoung couldn’t control his reactions this time either; the shiver he felt when the tip of the bow approached his nipple, the tremble in his breath as it circled it leisurely, or the gasp and arch that accompanied the final tap. Jinyoung had not known such pleasure could be found from his nipples, and even less that it would be through mild pain, the sting turning into something sweet in a flash once the initial twinge was gone.

“There you go angel, didn’t that feel good?” Jaebum cooed at him, the bow that had inflicted the delicious blow only moments before reappearing much lower now, tracing over Jinyoung’s right hipbone, catching on the fabric of his nightshirt, now tented over his groin.

“Words, angel. I need to hear your voice,” Jaebum prompted, punctuated with a tap on Jinyoung’s hip when the singer forgot to answer. He had been too focused on the sensation of the bow tracing his hip bone, of the soft material of his shift dragging just the slightest bit over his heated length, making it twitch. The tap wasn’t painful or pleasant, just a reminder to pull him back into the moment, and Jinyoung wanted to groan in frustration, but held it in.

“Yes,” Jinyoung answered, not trusting his voice to say more.

“Do you want more?” Jaebum asked.

“Yes.”

The tip of the bow traveled down the inside of his right thigh the best it could over the material of the nightshirt, and Jinyoung flinched involuntarily, the sensation more tickling than pleasant.

“I hear you,” Jaebum said, and the touch disappeared. “Would you like to test if a tap would feel good, since you’re sensitive there, angel?”

Jinyoung hesitated for the first time before his answer. He was unsure, but he blindly trusted this man, and if Jaebum thought that it might bring him pleasure, Jinyoung would try it. “Yes.”

Jaebum touched the stick of the bow to the bare skin of Jinyoung’s calves and feet, guiding him into a better position, his knees angled slightly outward and legs bent just a little to expose more of the inner part of his thigh. The nightshirt was restricting how far Jinyoung could spread his thighs, but it seemed that the maestro was satisfied nevertheless, because he didn’t move to lift it.

The first tap was light, and while it didn’t make Jinyoung ticklish, it didn’t make him feel much else, either. Perhaps a little bit tingly. When Jinyoung didn’t react, the second flick was firmer, stinging a little, and it was  _ nice, _ perhaps, but not like what Jaebum had done to his nipples had been.

“Ah–” The third hit  _ stung, _ and Jinyoung jerked, because more than the taps on his nipples, it had  _ hurt. _

“Oh,” Jaebum said as he took in Jinyoung’s reaction. “Can you take ten more? I think you would feel really good if you did, angel.”

Jinyoung didn’t answer immediately, considering for a moment, before he decided he would be willing to try. “Yes.”

The next flick followed immediately after, landing on the same spot, and Jinyoung made a sound again, but did his best not to move his leg. Another hit landed, deepening the sting, making Jinyoung want to pull away but he didn’t, remaining in place. The third new flick just  _ hurt, _ making Jinyoung’s eyes sting as tears sprung into his eyes. He was unsure how he got through the next five, the pain only getting more intense, but by the ninth flick the spot Jaebum was hitting was starting to feel sort of numb, and the tenth hit didn’t feel that bad anymore, although the spot that had been stricken was still pulsing with pain.

“There, that is all. Well done, angel.”

Jaebum left his side, rummaging through a drawer again. In the moment Jinyoung was left alone he took stock of himself, and he realized to his surprise that he was still rock hard. The tip of his length was leaking onto the trail of hair on his stomach, even as the silk over his eyes was moist with tears. As seconds passed, the pulsing pain in the spot Jaebum had hit faded into a dull, pleasurable throb that made Jinyoung feel  _ good, _ more alive than he had perhaps ever felt before.

“I’ll lift your shift just enough that I can apply cream where it hurts,” Jaebum informed, and the far end of the bed dipped as the man sat down on it. Jinyoung furrowed his brow. That was not what he wanted, he wanted–

“Can you do the other leg, too?” Jinyoung blurted. “Please?” He added hastily, unsure how politely he needed to ask to get what he wanted.

Jaebum’s movements paused. If Jinyoung’s eyes had not been blindfolded, he might not have heard it, but they weren’t, so the quiet sigh or moan that left Jaebum’s lips didn’t escape him, and hearing that confirmation that Jaebun was enjoying this as Jinyoung was made his length bob against his stomach.

“Of course, angel, but I’ll take care of this leg first, alright?” Jaebum answered a beat later, sounding calm and collected again, although there was a slight strain to his voice.

“Yes,” Jinyoung breathed, barely above a whisper, but this time Jaebum didn’t make him repeat himself.

The touch of Jaebum’s fingers felt searing on the outer edge of Jinyoung’s knee, lifting his leg so that the man could pull the nightshirt higher and reveal the skin of his mid-thigh, where the hits had fallen. Unlike the touch Jaebum had given him with the violin bow, there was nothing sensual about what he was doing with his fingers. This touch was clinical, if not just a bit tender, as Jaebum applied the ointment on the abused skin. Even so, it felt good, because Jinyoung was really being  _ touched  _ by Jaebum.

When Jaebum was done applying the cream, he carefully pulled Jinyoung’s nightshirt back down and got back up to resume the treatment Jinyoung had asked for. The ten flicks over his left thigh left Jinyoung reeling again, sounds escaping his throat uninhibited. The pain gave to pleasure the moment Jaebum stopped again, leaving the wounded spot throbbing. Jaebum repeated the application of the ointment on this side as well, but this time his hands lingered, a thumb stroking over the top of Jinyoung’s bare thigh and the fore and middle finger applying the soothing balm tracing around the wounded spot after the cream had been spread. As Jinyoung couldn’t see, his only warning was a soft gust of breath on his thigh before Jaebum’s lips took its place, kissing him just above the tingling, throbbing spot, making Jinyoung jolt slightly at the soft, sensual sensation.

“You’re marvelous, my angel,” Jaebum murmured reverently against the skin of Jinyoung’s thigh. “So reactive, so sensitive, and such beautiful sounds you make. Perfection made flesh.” There was another kiss on Jinyoung’s thigh, higher this time, more a suck and a bite to it than before. “How I would want to repeat this onto your backside, but that will have to wait for another time, when I have you bent over the edge of the bed or the drawer for access.” The words were a promise that sent a new pulse of arousal through Jinyoung’s body, the tip of his length so moist now that the fine fabric of the shift stuck to it, creating a pull that was a tad uncomfortable.

“Another time?” Jinyoung asked, his voice quiet, but not unsure.

“Yes, angel, another time. If you’ll agree to giving yourself to me again,” Jaebum promised him among kisses trailed down the inside of his thigh to his knee, avoiding the spot that was too sensitive to touch for now.

“Yes,” Jinyoung concurred dazedly, his head lolling to one side. His body was thrumming with arousal, and this gentleness after the pain of the moments before was almost too tender for him to bear. Jaebum was guiding his hips up now, lifting the fabric that had covered Jinyoung’s body from sight, revealing skin, inch by inch. Jinyoung could not see Jaebum watching him, but he could feel his gaze, and it was accompanied with ghosting touches over his sides, a soft brush over the nubs that had been tormented earlier and had only just had time to lose the heightened sensitivity from the pain.

“You’re beautiful, my angel,” Jaebum breathed. “Unmarred golden skin, strong, taut muscles… I could spend days, making love to every inch of your skin.”

Jinyoung sighed contently. Jaebum shifted on the bed, and Jinyoung’s breath hitched as he felt weight settle on the both sides of his hips before another point of weight set down next to Jinyoung’s head, Jaebum’s breath hitting his lips as Jinyoung could feel his face come close to his.

“We already went through a lesson on expectations and anticipation,” Jaebum said, his lips just an inch or two from Jinyoung’s, a distance Jinyoung could close if he so chose, despite being bound up. “I think you’ve learned by now that anticipation heightens sensation, and the unexpected can bring great pleasure.”

“Yes,” Jinyoung admitted, but instead of leaving it at that, he demanded, “Kiss me.”

Jaebum chuckled, and he touched the sides of the noses together in a nuzzle, a gesture somehow more intimate than the kisses he had left on the inside of Jinyoung’s thigh. “Had enough of anticipation already?”

“I wasn’t asking,” Jinyoung responded, tilting his chin upwards petulantly, and Jaebum chuckled again, leaning so close that their lips were brushing as he spoke.

“Your wish is my command.”

Jinyoung moaned when their lips at last met in a hungry kiss. It felt so good, to have Jaebum upon him, to suck his bottom lip into his mouth and lightly bite on it, to be able to do this much at least even while his hands were bound. Jaebum’s breathing was ragged and loud in Jinyoung’s ears, and he searched its sound for clues to what the other man might especially like. A hand of Jaebum’s was lifted to gently rest against the base of Jinyoung’s throat. It was the perfect reminder of Jinyoung’s vulnerable position and the power Jaebum held over him, although there was no squeezing or pressing, nothing to constrict his breathing, at least yet.

Wanting to test the waters with little more than intuition guiding him, Jinyoung used his legs to buck his hips upward, enough to meet Jaebum’s where the other man was holding his weight above him, and  _ oh. _ A choked moan was muffled against Jinyoung’s lips as their hardened lengths pressed together for one hot moment of glorious friction before Jaebum took control again.

The wonderful contact of their lips disappeared as Jaebum righted himself, sitting back on the top of Jinyoung’s bare thighs and forcing them down, the hand that had previously been on the bed coming to firmly grip Jinyoung’s hip. The hand on Jinyoung’s neck had tightened to holding Jinyoung’s neck – not putting pressure on the windpipe, but rather restraining him. The control of the situation was back with Jaebum, and as much as Jinyoung had enjoyed stealing it and having Jaebum do exactly what he asked for, this was perfect – Jinyoung had not known that he would enjoy being deprived of control this much, but his body responded as eagerly to the surrender as the fight.

“Do you test me so that I would reprimand you, or do you need me to move faster, my angel?” Jaebum asked casually, but the fact that he took the care to make sure that he would react to Jinyoung’s actions the way Jinyoung wanted him to was further reassurance that Jinyoung had made the right choice, giving himself to this man. Jinyoung was already so deep in the throes of desire that he felt no shame to express what he wanted, and a playful half-smile, half-smirk spread on his lips.

“I’m testing you,” Jinyoung answered, his voice ragged with want, “Because I want  _ more.” _

“Pain or pleasure?” Jaebum asked conversationally, while the hand that had been holding Jinyoung’s hip raised to tweak at one of his nipples, causing Jinyoung to jolt in a mix of both.

“Haven’t you been teaching me that the difference is subtle?” Came Jinyoung’s cheeky counter.

Jaebum simply laughed at Jinyoung’s impertinence, a lovely, hearty sound, but when he answered, there was a promising danger in his tone. “Perhaps I shall teach you the way from pleasure to pain now, when pleasure becomes so much you’ll be begging me for it to end, for release and relief.”

Jinyoung’s length twitched at that, and he let out a sigh of contentment. “Please,” He answered, and that was enough.

Jaebum got up from the bed, leaving Jinyoung alone again, unable to tell what was coming next. What he could by his hearing tell was that Jaebum was moving around in the room, picking up some things and setting them on the bed, somewhere to the right of Jinyoung’s hips. After a moment of anticipation, filled with just the sounds of their breathing and Jaebum setting up for what was coming next, Jaebum spoke again.

“Bend your legs, angel, and make me some room between them,” He instructed, and Jinyoung didn’t hesitate to follow. There was a small twinge of pain from his thighs when their muscles moved, but it wasn’t a negative thing – Jinyoung rather liked the reminder.

The bed jostled a little when Jaebum’s weight settled between Jinyoung’s bent legs, and Jinyoung shivered when Jaebum positioned himself so that his breath fanned over Jinyoung’s crotch. By now, Jinyoung’s length was yearning for any sort of touch, but he figured he should expect none now that he had asked Jaebum to torment him with pleasure. His body was thrumming with anticipation and arousal and he felt ready for Jaebum to bring him his worst, or  _ best. _

Despite anticipating for something to happen, being blindfolded and unable to actually see when something did meant that Jinyoung was easily caught off guard, and thus he was when a slicked finger brushed around his puckered entrance in a teasing touch. It made Jinyoung clench around nothing, and just as with his nipples and the violin bow earlier, the fingertip kept circling around, drawing Jinyoung’s attention to the small pleasure it brought. At the same time, the meager touch was almost annoying Jinyoung as it continued, as it wasn’t  _ quite _ where it was yearned, where it was  _ intended,  _ considering that if this were all Jaebum intended to do, there would have been no need for the oil.

But it was just pleasurable enough, just  _ enticing _ enough that Jinyoung didn’t want it to stop either. Jinyoung bit at his own lips in indecision, but when his length twitched at the slight stimulus at his entrance, a small sound escaped Jinyoung’s mouth regardless, his mind made up for him. Jaebum rewarded him with a mark he slowly sucked into Jinyoung’s inner thigh just below where his leg met his crotch, teasing with teeth against skin that the other man knew now was sensitive to the point of pleasure.

Jinyoung was panting by the time Jaebum finally had mercy on him. Jaebum tightened the circle his fingertip was making, brushing over the entrance now, and the change from barely there stimulus to a lot of it made Jinyoung arch and moan. He tried to press down on the finger to finally get it inside of himself, but he was unable to do so, his restrained arms keeping him in place.

Jaebum muffled a sound against the flesh of Jinyoung’s thigh that Jinyoung could only guess to be one of pleasure, before turning his head so that he was resting a cheek covered by the smooth mask against Jinyoung’s thigh. “Yes, angel,” He breathed, sounding so affected, and Jinyoung imagined the length he had briefly felt when he had arched his hips up earlier to meet Jaebum’s, straining within the slacks the man was still wearing, bulging to get out. Gods he wanted to touch Jaebum in turn, to discover what he could do to bring pleasure to the other man, but Jinyoung couldn’t complain about what he was getting now, especially since it seemed this brought immense pleasure to Jaebum as well.

“Please,” Jinyoung begged when it seemed Jaebum might never press even just the first digit inside, and he was immediately rewarded by Jaebum applying just enough pressure that his finger slid in, only to the first knuckle at first, but slowly deeper.

Jaebum stretched him out slowly, taking his sweet time to do it, mouth hungry on Jinyoung’s thighs in the meanwhile. Jinyoung thought he would go insane from how slow Jaebum was going, how it was at the same time not as pleasurable as it could have been, and even better for it. Like this, the pleasure was piling up slowly, and while it made Jinyoung tremble and pant from how good it felt, it was nowhere near enough to bring him anywhere close to coming, and that was  _ excruciating _ and perfect at the same time.

Just when he thought Jaebum could not make it any more torturous, his mouth made its way up slowly to where two fingers were scissoring Jinyoung open, surprising Jinyoung with the touch of wet tongue on his rim.

“Ah–” Jinyoung exclaimed abortedly when Jaebun seemed to have no intention of stopping, his tongue dipping inside the ring of muscle his fingers were loosening, stretching Jinyoung further but most of all, feeling so different and good and inexplicably  _ filthy  _ at the same time. Jinyoung couldn’t help the way his body arched and trashed, but the ropes holding his arms spread and Jaebum’s other hand holding his hips to the bed were enough to keep him in place, so long as Jinyoung wasn’t really trying to buck Jaebum off, which he  _ definitely _ wasn’t, gods.

Jinyoung wasn’t sure what was escaping his mouth anymore, maybe cut off words, moans and mutters with which he was trying to let Jaebum know this felt good, or perhaps curses that he would murder the man if he stopped, Jinyoung wasn't sure. Jaebum wasn’t stopping – he took short breaks to adjust his position or the angle, but he kept going, sliding more of his tongue inside along his fingers, curling it to touch Jinyoung’s walls, or sometimes just teasing Jinyoung by licking around the stretched rim. It felt too good to bear, and yet it wasn’t enough. But then the moment came when Jaebum was teasing Jinyoung’s rim with his thick tongue and he curled his fingers with purpose, and that movement found something inside that made Jinyoung shout from the sudden surge of pleasure.

“There you go,” Jaebum murmured into the curve of Jinyoung’s backside right next to his entrance, the torturing tongue finally leaving him for a moment.

“Wh-What was that?” Jinyoung sputtered, honestly surprised he was able to piece a sentence together considering what a mess he was, and even that thought was interrupted by Jaebum’s fingers reaching to massage that spot again.

“That, my angel, is your point of pleasure,” Jaebum explained with a winded chuckle, giving Jinyoung’s bottom a light bite. “I could easily make you scream from pleasure and release untouched by keeping on doing this, but I won’t.” Another brush of fingers, but lighter, more teasing this time. “I will bring you to the point where you are so close to it that it will be painful not to reach it.”

From that on, Jaebum’s mouth focused on giving teasing, distracting bites and sucks to the flesh of Jinyoung’s thighs and what little it could reach of Jinyoung’s backside while the fingers inside of Jinyoung focused on brushing lightly and intermittently over that pleasurable spot. It made Jinyoung writhe, his focus narrowing on that point of ecstasy, but Jaebum wasn’t giving him  _ enough, _ and he kept doing these distracting things that made it impossible for Jinyoung to quite get there. Jinyoung was  _ so close _ to it, each brush of a calloused fingertip over that spot that brought a jolt of pleasure making him tremble, but Jaebum was denying it from him. It was cruel, dangling release right in front of Jinyoung’s face but out of reach, and it was delicious at the same time, making Jinyoung  _ ache  _ for it, which made it all even better.

Jinyoung was unsure what happened, but perhaps Jaebum had miscalculated how much stimulation he could take, one brush of fingers too much in the right place – because suddenly the pleasure became too much. The scale tipped over, and just like that, Jinyoung was coming. Each spurt of release that painted Jinyoung’s stomach was almost painful in how much of a relief it was, the feeling completely overwhelming after the long torture of pleasure Jaebum had put him through.

“Oh, angel,” Jaebum gasped, his voice colored by reverence. “So beautiful,” He murmured into the skin of Jinyoung’s thigh as Jinyoung arched with the force of the final spurt of his release, his stomach now sticky and warm with it. Jaebum’s voice lowered into playful disapproval, “But that was too quick, angel, I had hoped to keep you on the edge for longer.”

Jinyoung moaned as he came down from his high, not bothering to piece an answer together since one wasn’t required. He was absolutely spent, his body feeling tingly and warm in the afterglow, and his focus was on the euphoria of his body was in, thanks to Jaebum.

Jaebum slowly slid his fingers out of Jinyoung, and Jinyoung whined at the loss, because although their weight hadn’t quite been substantial enough, it had still been enough to make him feel like this. Jaebum was gentle with him, peppering kisses on his thigh before moving upwards, tongue coming to lick at the cooling release on Jinyoung’s stomach and waning length. If Jinyoung had any energy left to spare, he might have felt shy about Jaebum cleaning him up with his tongue, but in his state of ecstacy Jinyoung had no sense of shame. However, after a moment the licks started to make him ticklish enough to wriggle just a little, trying to get away from the touch.

“Tickles,” Jinyoung complained when it didn’t seem like Jaebum was getting the hint.

The other man chuckled against his stomach. “But you taste good, angel, do you want to try?”

There was a sweep of a thumb over sticky skin before it appeared on Jinyoung’s lips, smearing a dollop of the fluid over a plush bottom lip, prompting Jinyoung to dart his tongue out to taste both the salt of his own release and Jaebum’s skin. The almost inaudible gasp that betrayed Jaebum’s pleasure goaded Jinyoung on, and he wrapped his lips around the digit to slowly suck it into his mouth. Intent on spurring Jaebum’s imagination, Jinyoung curled his tongue around the finger before hollowing his cheeks as he sucked, trying all the dirtiest things he could come up with. 

After a long minute of wet slurps and long sucks, Jaebum drew his thumb away from Jinyoung’s mouth.

“Gods, how you torment me, are you an angel at all?” Jaebum murmured against Jinyoung’s chest before giving it a chaste kiss. “You’re making me impatient to have you, and I was supposed to take my sweet time.”

“Then have me already,” Jinyoung breathed, breathless. “Give in, like I have.” He didn’t know where the words were coming from, but Jinyoung couldn’t help himself, he  _ wanted, _ and he knew what it was that he needed to finally sate him. Jinyoung’s sense of touch felt like it was in overdrive with each varying sensation Jaebum was giving him, and he was more than a little impatient himself, though he had given himself to whatever pace Jaebum would choose. However, if he could get Jaebum to crumble down and go faster, not because Jinyoung asked, but because of how he was and what he did, Jinyoung would prefer that. Nothing could have assured him more of his own appeal.

At Jinyoung’s words, Jaebum groaned as if he were in agony, loud and unrestrained, frustration shining through the tone of his voice.

“Alright, angel, I give in,” He said in surrender, his head disappearing from where it had been resting against Jinyoung’s chest as he shifted his weight on the bed, sitting on Jinyoung’s thighs again. “You’ve won this battle, but not the war. And that’s another lesson – love is a constant battlefield of desires and wants, words and actions the weapons used to break each other’s defenses down and either heal or hurt each other, and negotiations and compromises are vital for peace.”

Jinyoung hummed, perhaps not listening as attentively as he should. He felt both needy and brave enough to give another demand. “I would prefer to see you.”

“You would?” Jaebum sounded honestly surprised. “Why, when imagination is better than reality, and when you close your eyes I can be anything you want?”

“I would,” Jinyoung answered simply, pausing for a moment before deciding to add, “I want to know that this is more than my imagination, because that is far better than just dreams.”

“You’ll know it in your body,” Jaebum argued, but he had already reached to untie Jinyoung’s left wrist, deft fingers freeing it quickly before moving to the other one. “And what your body remembers is much more tangible than any image.”

“Both fade,” Jinyoung reasoned, “Which is why I want to make the most out of this.”

Jinyoung flexed the fingers of his left hand as Jaebum untied his right, tensing the muscles of his thighs as an idea formed in his head. The moment Jaebum let go of his right wrist, Jinyoung’s arms flew to take hold of Jaebum’s hips as he used his legs as leverage to kip Jaebum’s weight off of him. Caught unawares, there was little more Jaebum could do than yelp as Jinyoung flipped their positions, landing in a straddling position over the straining length in Jaebum’s pants, which made them both groan.

Hands free and in control of the situation, Jinyoung pulled the blindfold off of his eyes, making mess of his hair, although he cared little. What he cared about was that when he finally blinked his eyes open into the candle-lit room, Jaebum was spread on the blood-red sheets beneath him, dark, twinkling eyes behind the eerily white mask looking up at Jinyoung in admiration. Jinyoung’s nightshift had dropped from where it had been pushed up to his armpits, covering his body again, but Jaebum’s body was covered as well, his shirt half unbuttoned, but still on, his length straining in his pants, but belt buckled and keeping it all back.

Jinyoung dropped his gaze down from Jaebum’s eyes down to where his flowy shirt was tucked into the waist of his pants, and tugged it free. Released from the weight of Jinyoung’s gaze, Jaebum seemed to have regained the ability to move, and his hands were coming to hold Jinyoung’s arms or hips or  _ something, _ but Jinyoung was having none of it. He flicked his eyes up for a moment just to pin Jaebum down with a warning gaze, and amazingly, that was enough. Jaebum dropped his hands back down onto the bed in surrender, and let Jinyoung have free reign.

Jinyoung made quick work of unbuttoning the silk shirt and revealing the expanse of Jaebum’s torso, toned muscles moving with each heavy breath Jaebum took. Jinyoung’s fingertips trailed up Jaebum’s sides, making the most out of being able to  _ touch, _ finally, to explore Jaebum’s body for himself. On his way upwards, Jinyoung flicked Jaebum’s nipples almost absentmindedly, enjoying the slight stutter in the broad man’s inhale, a smirk coming to play on his face. But Jinyoung was far too impatient by now to really take his time. He leaned down to suck a mark into the column of Jaebum’s throat to mark him as his just as Jaebum had marked him, and got a strangled moan in response. That was just about as long as Jinyoung could wait, because as he lifted his mouth from Jaebum’s neck, he came face to face with the man. Dark brown eyes blinked at him, thin lips parted and their breath wet and heavy as it hit Jinyoung’s moist lips, and Jinyoung just couldn’t resist the urge to crash their lips together anymore.

It wasn’t sweet or soft as their lips met again, they were both too wound up for that. Their mouths moved together in passion, spurred on by a slight movement of their hips together that Jinyoung started, his length rising in interest again. Jaebum moaned into his mouth, and their tongues met in the middle right after, battling for dominance. It was hot and wet and messy _ ,  _ and Jinyoung lost himself in the kiss for a moment. His hand came up to tangle in Jaebum’s hair, tilting his head so that their mouths went better together, and as he did, his fingers came across the ribbon he realized a heartbeat later tied to the white mask Jaebum wore to cover the upper half of his face, and the reminder pulled Jinyoung into the moment again. He hesitated, battling with the curiosity and desire to see Jaebum uncovered, but reason won.

When their lips parted, for a moment they remained connected with a thin string of saliva, sharing heavy breaths in the same space. Jinyoung broke it by pulling back a little more, fingers playing with the strands of Jaebum’s hair caught under the strap of the mask.

“Can I take your mask off?”

Jaebum balked, immediately tense, a hand rising to keep the mask firmly in place, although Jinyoung hadn’t untied it, having reigned in the urge. “No, angel, don’t. You can take off everything else, but leave my mask. I would not have you see me without it.”

Jinyoung swore to himself that he would some other time talk Jaebum out of the mask, but it was too early. Whatever it was that had Jaebum so adamant to hide his face, it was not something Jinyoung could change overnight. He had to respect the limits Jaebum set and take what he got.

“Deal.”

Jinyoung got rid of Jaebum’s shirt first, struggling in opening the cuffs, but managing nevertheless. Unbuckling Jaebum’s belt felt like opening the strings on a present, and Jinyoung took his time, knowing fully that he was being a tease. Jaebum didn’t rush him, his torment only showing in the way his hands were clenched into fists by his side and the strain of the veins on his neck, keeping tight control over himself. Jinyoung made a point to open the zipper of Jaebum’s pants as slowly as he could, freeing one pair of teeth at a time, the slow tick of it maddening, but the tension and tremble in Jaebum’s body, so eager for any touch, was more than enough reward.

Once the zipper was opened, Jinyoung wasted no more time. He pulled Jaebum’s briefs and pants off in one go, discarding them carelessly somewhere on the floor. Deciding his nightshirt was only going to get in the way, Jinyoung lifted its hem to pull it off without any further delay, not bothering to make a show out of it, too eager to get to where he had wanted to be for a long while now. He was only more eager now that he could  _ see _ Jaebum’s girth, sprouting from a bed of hair and curving up to the trail that continued all the way to Jaebum’s chest.

Jaebum was raising his hands again, reaching for Jinyoung, but Jinyoung leveled him down with another stern look. It made Jaebum laugh abruptly, even as he gave in again, hands falling down. “You are really teaching me about the power of one look, aren’t you, angel?”

Jinyoung gave him a coy one-shouldered shrug. “Isn’t that the ideal situation, where two people can both teach things to one another?” He shuffled on his knees to position himself over Jaebum’s groin, a hand coming to wrap around Jaebum’s length so he could line himself up with it.

Jaebum tried to bite back a moan, but couldn’t quite manage to do so. “Ah– yes, angel. Please.”

“Please what?” Jinyoung prompted, eyes sharp as he lowered just enough for the tip of Jaebum’s length to brush against the lubed rim of his entrance, impatient, but taking just one moment more to assert his control.

“Please use me as you wish,” Jaebum whispered in surrender, and that was exactly what Jinyoung needed. Jinyoung lowered himself down onto Jaebum’s length, and the both of them moaned, lost in the exquisite feeling of the slow slide of their bodies becoming one. Jinyoung’s grip on Jaebum’s hips was perhaps too hard, but he didn’t realize it, too lost in the overwhelming feeling of slowly being filled by Jaebum’s length, bordering pain, but breaking into pleasure.

It took awhile for the stretch to change from bearable to enjoyable, but when it did, Jinyoung started moving, testing the waters by lifting his lips a little before lowering down again. When that slide was easy enough, Jinyoung eagerly extended the movement and picked up the pace, spurred on both by his own pleasure and the reactions he was getting from Jaebum. The other man was grasping onto fistfuls of sheets as he tried to keep still, grunts escaping his lips whenever Jinyoung moved himself especially well, and to cause this reaction in Jaebum made Jinyoung prideful.

The next time Jinyoung pushed himself down to the very base of Jaebum’s length, Jaebum canted his hips up, causing just a minute change in the angle and  _ oh.  _ Both of them participating in the movement made all the difference, and on top of that, when the timing got just right, the tip of Jaebum’s length pressed onto that sweet spot inside of Jinyoung, and it was absolutely divine. Jinyoung tossed his head back in a moan, and this time when Jaebum placed his hands on Jinyoung’s hips to help the motion, to get them to hit that spot every time instead of here and there, Jinyoung didn’t protest. It was too perfect for him to care.

Lost in ecstacy, Jinyoung’s world narrowed down to just the two of them, moving together, chasing new highs of pleasure and making the most of one another. He was broken out of his reverie when Jaebum spoke, voice ragged, like a man broken by too much of everything he could ask for.

“Ah, angel, slow down, or you’ll push me past the point of no return.”

Jinyoung’s eyes flitted up to lock with Jaebum’s, determined to rise to the challenge. Instead of slowing down, Jinyoung picked up the speed, messing up their rhythm at first, but Jaebum was unable to resist matching it. They were thrown into a frenzy, and it was all just  _ too good,  _ Jaebum’s hips snapping up mercilessly, and then his hand wrapped around the base of Jinyoung’s length, moving just enough with the movement of their hips to get Jinyoung back to the edge. It seemed all too soon and yet not soon enough when the both of them were coming, finding relief in each other’s bodies, shuddering from the strength of it.

Coming down from his high, the exhaustion hit Jinyoung in full force, but Jaebum seemed to pick up on this, gently guiding him to lie down on the bed next to him. Once Jaebum slipped out of him, Jinyoung was far too exhausted to get up and clean himself, no matter how  _ filthy _ it felt to have Jaebum’s release dripping out of him, because it felt good as well, an aspect of possessiveness to it. Jaebum, however, went to get a wet cloth to wipe off the most of what was on both of their stomachs, something Jinyoung felt vaguely glad for, knowing that while he didn’t mind now, it was for the best.

Jinyoung was unsure when he drifted off. He was just so  _ content, _ because after cleaning up, rubbing some more cream into Jinyoung’s sore spots and getting them both a drink of water, Jaebum spooned him under the covers, broad chest pressed against his back, and everything was perfect. Jinyoung remembered feeling warm and sated, his body humming from the contentment that spread in the aftermath of pleasure, and a soft sigh that Jaebum breathed against the nape of his neck.

The next thing Jinyoung became aware of was Yugyeom shaking him awake, claiming it was time to get up, and yet Jinyoung felt like he hadn’t slept long enough, his body heavy from too little sleep. For a short moment, less than a minute, Jinyoung forgot  _ why _ it was that he had not had his full night of sleep, rubbing his eyes and hating the early morning, but when he did, he sat up in panic. Jinyoung was in his own bed in the bedroom shared with so many others, wearing his nightshift, not a hair out of place, like nothing out of the ordinary had happened during the night.

_ No, _ Jinyoung thought,  _ It can’t have been just a dream! _

He scrambled to throw the blankets off of himself, but that, already, was enough, because when he moved, the dull ache from having been filled the night before told Jinyoung that  _ no, _ he couldn’t have only dreamt meeting Jaebum and learning music and love from him. This feeling was too unfamiliar and strong to not be real, and feeling Jaebum’s brand within his body made Jinyoung giddy. However, he needed to see to believe.

When Jinyoung nudged the hem of his nightshift, careful to make sure everyone else in the room was too busy with themselves to watch him, he did see. Right there, on the pale golden skin of Jinyoung’s inner thighs, were two reddish marks that definitely couldn’t be from dancing or bumping into something or explained away with anything else Jinyoung did at the Opera on a daily basis. They were marks Jinyoung knew were made by a violin bow, and a maestro who knew how to wield it.

Jinyoung smiled as he lowered his nightshirt to hide what was to him, although perhaps not to anyone else, incriminating evidence. He was already swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, ready to get up and pretend nothing had changed overnight, when something red caught his attention from the corner of his eye.

On Jinyoung’s nightstand laid a single red rose with a note, out of place since Jinyoung hadn’t gotten a rose for his performance last night. With trembling fingers, Jinyoung reached for it, avoiding the thorns carefully as he read the words scribbled on the backside of a piece torn from a music sheet.

_ See you again tomorrow night, angel. _

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot consumed me for almost a month and yet I think it was worth it, because I'm quite proud of it. This is the filthiest smut I've ever written and I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> I enjoyed hiding in references to the original Phantom of the Opera, although this diverged from the plot completely :') Did you find them?
> 
> While writing is self-indulgent, comments are a big part of my motivation to keep doing it, so pretty please! Let me know how you liked this fic ♥
> 
> Oh yeah and I also have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/seitsemannen)!


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